Duck Lake No one dies from love; guess I'll be the first

She regretted the question the moment she saw it register in his expression. It was something terrible, it must be. I understand, Reverie touched his face lightly. It suddenly seemed important that he knew just how much she understood, despite his deflection. If he never wanted to speak of it, she would never ask again — but she wanted him to know that he didn't have to be afraid of telling her. That she wouldn't judge him or pity him, or worse, hover and obsess and expect his feelings to change any day. Do you remember - what I told you about my sister?